Ryan O'Connell

Your mother is starting to take an active interest in the state of your love life. The second your mom cares about whether or not you’re getting laid, you know things are bad.

Love someone when they’re drunk and it looks like their face is melting and they’re stuffing food in their mouth, sauce dripping down the sides. Your body will recoil because you’ll think for a split second that you fell in love with an animal instead of an actual human being.

Drinking is best done slowlllllyyyyyyy. Think of it as like a car and you’re the one behind the steering wheel. Now you have two choices: you can either drive yourself to victory in a puttering Pinto or break the speed limit in a Jaguar and reach a James Dean-style fate.

I don’t know if you ever get better. I don’t know if a person can just wake up one day and decide to be an active participant in their life. I’d like to think so.

You are closed off. So closed off and sometimes it feels good to be the only one who can disappoint you, doesn’t it? By never relinquishing your power, you are never at the mercy of other people. Perfect, right?

It’s important that I never forget you, although I have a feeling that it’s not entirely up to me. Time dictates what gets remembered and what gets left behind. I’m at the mercy of the clocks. Sure, I can make suggestions and forceful nudges but at the end of the day, I’m powerless.

You constantly feel pangs of envy when looking at people’s Instagrams and Twitter feeds. Is everyone in the world having more fun than you are? Answer: No, they’re just better at faking it.

We’re masochists. We doll ourselves up every night for a city that’s just going to end up giving us a black eye anyway. It’s our glamorous version of a bad boyfriend.